


Coffee and Bullet Holes

by psychedelia



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Marvel
Genre: F/M, M/M, Morning Routines, bullet removal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:47:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23158786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelia/pseuds/psychedelia
Summary: It's a strange morning when you're three crime bosses slowly stitching together New York. But sometimes it works. And sometimes there's coffee.
Relationships: Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter & Elektra Natchios, Lester | Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter/Matt Murdock, Matt Murdock/Elektra Natchios
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Coffee and Bullet Holes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carrionkid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionkid/gifts).



> This was for the lovely [Harlow](https://bullseyemutual.tumblr.com), who requested some yummy domestic scenes from his [Devil's in the Detail universe.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16960443/chapters/39857700) If you HAVEN'T read that.... Um. Go do that?

* * *

On mornings like these, the kitchen smells like coffee, and the bathroom reeks of blood. It's becoming a comfort, almost; coffee is poured and someone sits on the toilet and gets shrapnel pulled out of their body by tweezers. Or lacerations and stab wounds tended with soft hands and cold glares. 

This morning, Elektra showers, and the bathroom is filled with a thick condensing fog. Her showers are always long, and she doesn't much care to share the space with either Matt or Bullseye, though Matt can sometimes convince her otherwise. 

It's a rare thing. 

It's definitely not happening this morning. She's  _ mad _ at him because he's allowed himself to get shot. Bullseye said it wasn't like he much  _ chose  _ it, 'Lektra, but her solid stare shut him up quickly, and Matt had been far, far too tired to do much more than dig it out of his side with trembling hands over the kitchen sink the night before and then crawl into bed with makeshift bandages. 

They tend to go through a lot of sheets. 

" _ Matty," _ He hears moaned from the kitchen as the coffee pot churns and squeezes, and he only has a second to react before the bullet is being thrown at him. He catches it and winces at the way the movement pulls at his side, and it must make Bullseye feel bad, because by the time he's tossed the damned thing in the bathroom garbage, Bullseye is at his side and pressing nimble little fingers against the bandaging. 

Matt can only imagine the grimace at the blood that's probably plastered to his face, but it's a better look than him shutting down and freaking out and leaving. He'd forgotten he'd left his mess in the sink. 

Wordlessly, he goes to sit on the toilet seat and starts to unwind the bandaging, and from the shower, Elektra's humming ceases long enough for her to say, "Matthew, dear, if you leave blood in the sink again, I'll simply have to take the Kovalenko job, and neither of us will be very happy with that, Hm?" 

Matt grunts and let's Bullseye come close, taking over the removal of the bandages while Matt drums his fingers on the sink counter. "You'd bring home a lot more blood than just one bullet's worth with that job,  _ dear _ ." 

He's not upset. Neither is she. He knows she's smiling sharp as a wolf as she scrubs her hair, and his own smile is no less dangerous. 

Bullseye mumbles, "We should pro'lly do that job anyhow. Considering what he's been saying." 

And well, that's more real than light, playful jabs. Matt's smile turns sharper, but smaller. "I know." It's a promise, not a dismissal. Easier to keep them all safe than it is to examine the ways he's starting to  _ like  _ when they have to take action. 

They just agree not to talk about it. 

Matt hisses when Bullseye presses a disinfectant soaked cloth to his side, and his fingers still for a moment before continuing. Ever so cautious. The smell of coffee in the kitchen has his stomach growling, and he reaches up to press a thumb to Bullseye's cheek, feeling the taut way he's tensed. 

"I'll cook," He says, and it's a thank-you. Bullseye doesn't care for blood. Hardly cares for food, either, but he'll appreciate it nonetheless, because he somehow, despite everything, seems to appreciate everything Matt does. He thinks for a second, and adds, "And I'll clean the kitchen, too."

The water shuts off, a slow dribble of residual droplets plopping to the bottom of the tub. Matt pulls the towel off the rack across from him as Bullseye wraps him back up, reaching behind him where Elektra's hand is ready and waiting to be handed it. 

"No blood," Bullseye says solemnly, and Matt can feel wet hair brushing against his shoulder as Elektra leans over him and verifies the sink and toilet and floor are clean. She hums in acknowledgement. 

Matt takes Bullseye's hand when he offers it and pulls himself up, and Elektra's drags her nails lightly down his back to make him shiver, and between the two of them, it's easy to forget about the rush of pain in his side that ebbs and flows with each movement. 

They're busy today, in their various ways, but giving each other at least an hour in the morning has made everything work much, much smoother. He'll cook for them, and they'll eat, and they won't say much, but it will be comfortable, and then they will defend their territory as they must. It's the way of things, now. 


End file.
